Romance isn't only for the French
by asterphoenix247
Summary: France, might be called the country of love, but that doesn't mean England cant enjoy some romance every now and then. FrUK with fluff!


**This is my FrUK pairing story, ever! In a way I'm happy about the way it had turned out. **

**I would love to thank Lady Emzebel for beta reading this. Her help made this fluff (xD thats a funny word) story even better. **

**Fav and review please. I hope I'll be able to post more things like this in the futures.**

**French to English words:**

**Mon dieu: My god**

**_Angleterre: England_**

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Arthur Kirkland wasn't much of a romantic like his boyfriend Francis.

Sometimes he hated how that seemed to be the only thing that ever came to his lover's head, but that didn't mean that he didn't appreciate a candlelit dinner or two, now and then.

Sure he preferred to be less amorous than his partner but that didn't mean he couldn't be as good at romance as his French companion.

The Englishman fancied dressing up; it always reminded him of his glory days, so putting on his tux was unquestionably a good thing for him.

The younger of the two held a bouquet of flowers to his chest; the crimson roses matched the same bright red that belonged to the Union Jack.

Looking at the white exterior of the building, the Englishman sighed.

He had always loved the French-styled building where Francis lived and secretly treasured looking at all the detail that was put into it.

He loved the two small windows that were on either side of the neat little front door with glass panes in front and he especially loved how the Frenchman kept small flowerpots filled with sweet-scented lavender beside the doorstep. The French place had a homey feel to it, unlike his austere Victorian-styled home.

Feeling like the romantic he was, Arthur picked the reddest of the blooms out of the bunch that was in his hand and placed it on the flat doorstep.

The green-eyed leaned back against the clean bricks right beside one of the windows. He was aware that it hadn't been the best place to hide; if the Frenchman even bothered to look closely he would have seen Arthur through the glass door panels.

Arthur didn't bother leaving his spot though; he rested the sole of his shoe against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest cradling the bouquet of flowers. The steps that belonged to the Frenchman, Francis Bonnefoy, echoed through the home.

Arthur heard the sound of the door spring stretch to its full extent. Francis was unaware that his love was right beside him behind the door. That only thing that seemed to catch the Frenchman's attention was that one single rose that lay on his doorstep.

"_Mon dieu_."

Arthur found the way the French slipped out of Francis' mouth utterly attractive. The much older man stepped out of his home, his hand in his messy hair. He looked as though he had just gotten out of bed. His white shirt was open, revealing his muscular chest to the world.

The Frenchman still hadn't noticed that his lover smirking triumphantly beside him. Francis stooped and picked up the single rose. The thorns had already been removed, which allowed the man to twirl the flower between his fingers. The blue-eyed man turned back to head inside his house, when something caught his eye. He had looked right through the door's glass windows and stopped walking as soon as he noticed his lover's gaze.

"_Angleterre_?"

Arthur only smirked and pushed off from the wall; the look on Francis's face was priceless.

"Are you not happy to see me?"

Francis couldn't even speak; he was speechless from the sight of Arthur at his front door, dapper and toting fresh blossoms. The only thing Francis could do was bring his hand to his blonde locks and stare at Arthur in confusion.

"Well since you're not happy to see me, I guess I'll get going?"

With that self-satisfied look, Arthur stepped away from his mate, the flowers still in his hands.

"Don't go _Angleterre_."

Arthur stopped and flashed the man a genuine smile filled with crooked typical Englishman teeth. He had never planned on leaving. Arthur had known Francis too well to realize that the Frenchman would never pass up an opportunity to be with him.

"What are you doing at my house?"

" You're not the only romantic one around here."


End file.
